The first line. Nothing. Still nothing. Nope. This is an experiment. It’s an experiment to see how my mind jumps from one structure to the next. Netflix is on in the background, the right ear focusing as much as it can on the dialogue. Sitting here trying to write some kind of witty sentence to keep this story going but, failing. My mind wants to shatter into a million pieces and reorganize itself like I’m William Shatner, treating each word as its own sentence. This writing. It’s. Rather. It’s rather terrible. That kind of speak. Too many don’t see the darker side of writers like myself. Well, I wouldn’t say the “darker” side per se, but more like “struggles” or “difficulties” of being a writer.

Not only being a writer but the struggles of being one are often far too romanticized in most forms of media. Even in most independent films and shows, there seems to be no escaping it. Now, my life isn’t unique by any stretch of the imagination. And I’m certainly not a figure to be romanticized like Neil Gaiman and other already notable ones. But we all share the same root problem or struggle: figuring out what the heck to write.

Confession: Used my phone several times, focusing on the tv twice so far.

It seems the more I learn about this ADHD/ASD combo, the more the executive dysfunction wants to settle in, rooting me to the ground; trapped.